Nicholas Fox Weber's new biography, Le Corbusier: A Life, is a giant work about a giant of a man. Weber's book begins at the end of Charles-Edouard Jeanneret's (a.k.a. Le Corbusier) long life when, lonely and riddled with uncertainty, he swims out into the Mediterranean and (Weber infers) commits suicide. It is an oddly fitting end for someone whose "lifelong task had been to exercise control, corral his emotions, determine the appearance of buildings, and promulgate his gospel." (p. 8)
But as we see very quickly in this epic account, Le Corbusier tremendous need to control stemmed from the very lack of control he had in relation to his mother, Marie, who lived almost as long as he did and throughout her life apparently favoured Le Corbusier's elder brother more. Weber suggests that Le Corbusier's hunger for Marie's affection drove him to extraordinary limits of endurance, intellect and artistry, yet also made him a tetchy, temperamental figure, someone who was never satisfied with himself (or with others) even after he'd left the small Swiss town where he was born and went to Paris, where he achieved fame as one of the 20th century's leading architects.
Weber's account of Le Corbusier's ascent to stardom is a dazzling one, richly stocked with detail about the path-breaking way he used prefabricated concrete in the construction of so many signature buildings - villas, churches, factories, apartment blocs - and the quicksilver crowd he moved among in Jazz Age Paris. The man was an artist at heart, someone whose ferocious sense of self-discipline allowed him to lead a double life, painting in the morning, designing buildings in the afternoon.
At the same time, Weber does a superb job of chronicling the growing disappointment and sense of failure Le Corbusier faced as his star rose but major urban planning projects like La Ville Radieuse (The Radiant City) remained unbuilt. It was Le Corbusier's life-long conviction that architecture could influence human nature. To achieve this properly, however, required work on a grand scale, something planning authorities the world over were reluctant to give him. This led to monumental, and often futile, skirmishes with administrators and to what is perhaps the most disturbing part of the book, Le Corbusier's collaboration with the pro-Nazi Vichy regime.
At war's end Le Corbusier swiftly rehabilitated himself with France's new Gaullist elite. His wartime past was forgotten and he went on to design some of the greatest work he is now remembered for: the l'Unité d'Habitation in Marseille, the master plan and major administrative buildings at Chandigarh, the church of Notre-Dame-de-Ronchamp. His office was flooded with commissions. He received dozens of honours. Thousands came to hear him speak at the Sorbonne.
Even so, Weber's book reminds us that little in Le Corbusier's life was easy. He continued to struggle with the underlying sense of failure and with the great projects, like his plan for the U.N. headquarters in New York, that were rejected. The famously tough outer shell he displayed in these years can be understood as a reaction. On the personal front he also had to deal with the increasingly erratic behaviour of his long-neglected wife, Yvonne, as she descended into alcoholism.
Weber is good at relating all of this. We see his subject at close range: singular, bold, visionary, a compulsive letter writer, a lover, an aesthete.
What Weber is less good at is depicting the milieu that Le Corbusier lived and worked within. The architect is portrayed as such a solitary individual that it is hard to sympathize with him, or indeed, with anyone else.
Added to this was the fact that many of his projects, both built and unbuilt, were plagued with practical problems, yet Le Corbusier dogmatically refused to alter them. In one early commission of a hostel for the poor, for instance, an innovative glass curtain wall caused severe problems with ventilation, yet Le Corbusier refused to perforate it with windows, a situation which eventually led to remedial action by municipal authorities.
Le Corbusier never accepted blame for any of these problems. Instead, he continued to work, to plan, to create, often reminding his family that true happiness is simply a state of mind. In this he was the quintessential modern icon: his faith in his vision was complete.